


Push/Pull

by withoutaplease



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:21:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22663933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withoutaplease/pseuds/withoutaplease
Summary: Prompt:  seeing an ex at a drive in concession stand and you both are on a date with someone who looks almost exactly like the other…during the movie both the exes wonder if they do in fact miss each other and seek each other out once the movie is done to talk PLUS Because I’ve been listening to it on repeat for days, a little Billy based on Youngblood by 5sos.Warnings: A couple F-bombs, guys are jerks.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 41





	Push/Pull

37 days. You’d managed to go 37 days without speaking to Billy Hargrove. You’d seen him plenty - Hawkins was a small place, and the high school even smaller - but it was simple enough to set your jaw and look through him in hallways and parking lots. Simple, if not exactly easy. The truth was, it still made your stomach drop like one of those dubious carnival rides that blew in and out of town every summer. Appropriate, given the way Billy had blown in and out of your life. And for 37 days, you hid all that just fine. Then, on day 38, by pure stupid coincidence, he cornered you.

The kicker was, you weren’t even sure you wanted to be there in the first place. You had absolutely no interest in _Ghoulies_ , the drive-in’s Friday feature, and the jury was still out on your interest in Zach, the driver who brought you there. He looked good on paper (and yes, okay, he looked good all around), but there was something holding you back, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Still, a date was a date, and any date was better than sitting at home pretending not to think about who Billy might be dating. And besides, if all else failed, they had the best corn dogs in town. You were standing in line, waiting for your order, when Billy materialized behind you in a cloud of cigarette smoke and cologne, and made eye contact before you could think to avoid it.

“Y/N,” he said coolly, by way of greeting, punctuated by a wad of spit shot in the general direction of a nearby trash can.

“Hi, Billy,” you replied, matching his tone and swallowing against the gorge that rose up in your throat. He looked hot tonight, damn him, but at least you thought maybe you did, too. You turned to stare intently at the harried-looking fry cook, willing him to hurry it up.

“Didn’t know you were a horror fan,” Billy said, and you looked impatiently back at him.

“Guess you don’t know me very well.”

“Guess not,” he said, with a shrug of his shoulder. “Who are you here with?”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” you snapped, and immediately regretted it.

He snorted. “Jesus, cool your jets. I’m just making conversation.”

“Well, don’t,” you said, abandoning your efforts to seem like you didn’t care. “We’re not friends.”

“Whatever,” he muttered, and you went back to glaring daggers at the cook. The smell of popcorn and French fries was drowning out Billy’s aura of Aramis and Marlboros, but your appetite had already soured. Sitting at home suddenly didn’t seem so bad, after all.

“Billy,” came a familiar, syrup-sweet voice from behind you. “Is it too late to change my mind? I want a vanilla milkshake, not chocolate.” You kept staring resolutely forward.

“I got one of each,” Billy replied, switching smoothly into charm mode.. “You can have mine.”

“Is it gonna be much longer? The previews are starting.”

“No, go wait in the car, sweetheart. I’ll be right there.”

“Don’t make me wait too long,” she flirted, and your stomach dropped down to your knees.

The voice belonged to Katie Connor, an old elementary school friend. Well, friend was maybe too strong a word, but when you share enough resemblance that even your teachers refer to you as the _Doublemint Twins_ , it’s basically the same thing. You ran out of things in common around the time you lost interest in Barbie dolls, and the friendship fizzled. Now, it seemed you had something in common once again. You laughed bitterly to yourself. 

“What’s so funny?” Billy asked, and you turned to face him again.

“Seriously?” you said, not bothering to temper your incredulity. “Katie Connor?”

“Yeah,” he answered. “What’s it to you?”

“Billy, she looks exactly like me!”

His lip curled up in a smirk. “Huh, hadn’t noticed.” You quirked an irritable eyebrow, and he continued, “Well, I promise, that’s where the similarity ends.”

“Whatever,” you echoed, shaking your head. Just then, the kid finally handed you your tray of corn dogs and fries; you grabbed it and tried to dash for your retreat.

“Enjoy your date,” Billy said, all smarmy sarcasm, as he declined to step out of your way. “Try not to choke.”

You paused, mid-step, to shoot him a look of disgust.

“On the corn dog,” he clarified, with a reptilian grin. You huffed, rolled your eyes, and hurried off in the direction of Zach’s cherry-red Pontiac Firebird.

“Thanks, babe,” he said, as you handed him the tray and climbed in. “You’re just in time.”

As he ate and watched the previews for Friday the 13th: Part V, you nibbled unenthusiastically and watched him. He was attractive, no question, with big green eyes and a bit of a baby face. A year older and already graduated, he had that kind of all-grown-up mystique that the high school boys just couldn’t match - or maybe that was just his wallet. His leather jacket still smelled new, and a diamond stud glinted in his earlobe. Not that that was terribly important, but hell, you deserved to be treated after what you’d been through. You had every reason in the world to like him. So what was wrong with this picture?

Zach glanced over and noticed you staring, and flashed a beautiful, Tiger Beat grin. Then he tucked a shaggy blond curl behind his ear, and stretched out his arm to drape over you. Around the time the movie started, and a fresh wave of his cologne hit your nostrils, it struck you. 

_The Doublemint Twins._

You imagined Billy and Katie, similarly cuddling in his Camaro somewhere in the lot, and couldn’t help but laugh again.

“What?” Zach asked.

“Nothing,” you replied, smiling reassuringly, and tried to focus on the movie. You lasted all the way through the first cheesy murder before your thoughts drifted back to Billy again. 

You still didn’t understand what had happened, not really. Billy happened, and maybe that’s all there was to it. It was a good thing, at first, a lucky thing, that the hottest guy in school deigned to notice you. You didn’t think he even knew your name until he showed up beside your locker after lunch one day and asked if he could have your number, and still didn’t quite believe it when he called a few days later and asked if you wanted to see a movie. Then, at the cinema, in the privacy of darkness, you let him slide his hand up the inside of your thigh, let him tease shivers down your spine with his tongue at your throat, and you started to believe it, maybe just a little.

Zach’s hand was resting on top of your knee, now, and working it’s way up, slowly. There was no revulsion, but there were no shivers.

With Billy, that first night, what started at the cinema spilled out into the Camaro, and didn’t stop until you collapsed, wide-eyed and panting, in his backseat. After, instead of bringing you home, he stayed up talking with you late into the night, finally dropping you off, reluctantly, with a kiss and a promise of a phone call. 

And even then, you weren’t convinced he wouldn’t fuck and chuck you, that his canine reputation wasn’t justified. Only, he called. And he called again. And again after that. And you started to believe that there was something real between you. Something that felt like it could even be love.

It lasted three months before he started picking fights with you, stupid fights about cramping his style and demanding too much of his time. He acted bored or pissed off when you were together, and stopped reaching for your hand when you were out in public. When you confronted him, hurt and confused, he said nothing was wrong. He kept saying nothing. Finally, you told him if he wasn’t going to talk to you, you wouldn’t talk to him, either. “Fine by me,” he’d said, and watched coldly as you walked away in tears. That was 37 days ago. 37 days of absolutely not being over him.

As you stared unseeing at the big screen, Zach’s hand made its way up your thigh. Just as he neared the apex, and you started to shift subtly away, he leaned over and made his move. It wasn’t a bad kiss, objectively speaking. His lips were plush and not too wet, with a pleasant amount of tongue (that tasted, ironically, of Doublemint gum). It was nice, in fact. And aside from those objective observations, you felt nothing. At all. You broke the kiss, and pulled back when he tried for another.

“What’s wrong?” he panted.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured. “I don’t really want to.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not into it. I’m sorry,” you repeated.

He leaned back in his seat and exhaled hard through his nose. “So why’d you come out with me?”

“Because you asked? You seem nice? I thought I’d give you a chance?" 

"You thought you’d give me a chance?” he muttered, trailing off. “… fucking jailbait high school chicks.”

“I’m eighteen,” you offered lamely.

“You’re a tease, is what you are. I think you should go.”

Lord knew you wanted to, but, “Zach, you brought me here. How am I supposed to get home?”

He shrugged, and lit a cigarette. “Not my problem,” he said, without looking at you. 

“Wow." You grabbed your purse and got out of the Firebird, shaking your head to hide the fact that the rest of you was shaking, too. The instant your door slammed shut, he started up the engine and pulled out of the spot, leaving you standing, humiliated, in the middle of the drive-in. "Asshole!” you shouted after him, and stoically ignored the stares coming from the surrounding vehicles as you walked away. You made it as far as a picnic table near the concession stand, then landed hard on your butt and started to cry.

“The movie’s not that bad, is it?”

You sniffled and looked up, quickly trying to wipe the mess from under your eyes, and just as quickly giving up. Billy took a lean on the table next to you, and brought out his pack of smokes.

“It’d be better if it was _Gremlins_ ,” you muttered, in a half-hearted joke. You sighed. “What do you want, Billy?" 

He shrugged. "I saw your date peeling out of here like his ass was on fire. Did you feed him after midnight or something?”

“Hilarious,” you grumbled. “Don’t you have anything better to do than kick me when I’m down? Like Katie Connor, maybe?”

“She left,” he said. You made an inquisitive face. “I told her to.”

You snorted. “Seems to be going around tonight.” You swiped beneath your eyes again, and started to pick up your purse. “I’d better get walking,” you said, and moved to stand up.

“I did ask her out because she reminded me of you,” he said, as casually as if he was commenting on the weather. Your butt hit the table again.

“What did you say?” you asked carefully.

“You heard me,” he replied, eyes fixed on the big screen. “But she’s no substitute.”

For a second, you just sat there, blinking stupidly while Billy smoked and waited. “What?” you came up with, at last.

He flicked the cigarette away, and looked at you. “I think I might have made a mistake,” he said, his nonchalance wavering a bit.

“You _think_?” you snapped. “Is that supposed to be an apology?”

“I miss you,“ he said simply.

"Really? You could’ve had me fooled.”

He ignored that. “You don’t miss me?”

“Being treated like shit and then dumped? Can’t say I do.”

“I didn’t dump you, you stopped talking to me." 

"Because you turned on me! I thought we had something!”

“We did.”

“Well, you didn’t act like it.”

He sighed. “Hence, the mistake.”

“I waited, you know. I waited weeks for you to call. Why are you telling me this now that I’ve moved on?”

“What, with Zach Lukowski? What is it you like about him, exactly? The hot car? The haircut? The charming personality?”

“Same things I liked about you,” you snarked.

He grinned at that, and you could’ve smacked it right off his face. “Why settle for a copy when you can have the real thing?”

“Billy …” you started, but you were cracking, and he saw it, too. He got up and stepped in front of you, and reached up to touch your face. 

“Do you miss me?” he asked again, gaze dropping from your eyes to your lips. He didn’t wait for an answer before he kissed you. Even closed-lipped and quick, it crackled with that same electricity that Zach (or anybody, you suspected) couldn’t match. Billy pulled back a little and met your eyes, mouth upturned in a small smile. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he murmured.

You shook your head slightly. “How do I know you’re not just going to push me away again?”

“Tried it once,” he said. “Didn’t work for me." 

"So why’d you do it?”

“Because I’m an asshole,” he replied. “Or just an idiot.” He kissed you again, questioning, and you didn’t yield yet, though Lord knew you wanted to. “Because I was scared,” he finished, softly.

“And that’s all changed now?”

He grinned again. “One out of three, anyway." He ducked down and started kissing your neck, leaving a trail of tingles in his wake. You sighed. 

"You think I’m just gonna fall for this?” you asked, a little hoarsely. 

“Yes,” he said, planting another kiss on your lips, one you didn’t resist, before returning his attention to your throat. A throbbing had started deep down between your thighs; it seemed your body agreed with him. 

“You guys can’t do that here,” came a voice from behind you. The fry-cook kid had come out from behind the counter, all puffed up like an angry kitten. 

“Walk away, fuckface,” Billy growled, and the kid deflated again. 

“Movie’s over anyway,” he muttered as he returned to the concession. You looked up and saw credits rolling. 

“He’s right,” you said. “It’s time to go.”

Billy let go of you, somewhat reluctantly, and took a step back. “You coming?” he asked, holding out a hand. You got to your feet, and took it.


End file.
